


Company & Compassion

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Childhood Friends, Community: hc_bingo, Eventual Romance, F/M, Georgian Period, Historical Inaccuracy, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: An Austen AU for the Doctor and Donna because “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble
Comments: 55
Kudos: 64
Collections: Hurt/Comfort Bingo - Round 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TKelParis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKelParis/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** not researched much beyond watching/reading the books (a few times, shall we say). It’s called fan _fiction_ so get over it.  
>  **A/N:** I came up with this idea after yet another rewatch of “Sense & Sensibility” because I love that film. And sitting through “Belgravia”, “Emma”, “Pride & Prejudice” as well as even “Great Expectations” didn’t hurt either. Okay, I might have collected costume photos, played with designs, that sort of thing...  
>  **A/N2:** written + posted today in order to wish [TkelParis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TkelParis/pseuds/TkelParis) a very happy birthday!!!

The passing scenery was pretty enough, but the state of the rutted muddy road navigated by stumbling hooves made the journey a jarring experience. 

Looking out of his carriage window, Dr John Smith wondered if he had made the right choice by accepting an invitation from his student, Mr Leo Jones, to attend the weekend gathering at his family home. The boy was a gifted engineer, and John was honoured to guide his education, as a mentor, but any future achievements were currently overshadowed by the news Leo had imparted.

Leo’s home was a large estate to the west of London, called Royale Manor. He’d told Dr Smith all about it and his family as they travelled from their university lodgings to his home base. The invite included the chance to shoot or fish, as well as some social activities. 

Unbeknown to Leo as he chatted on, the visit was fast becoming less of an idle trip and more of a nostalgia tour for his favourite lecturer. It had soon become apparent that Leo’s home was the same manor house that John had viewed from a distance as a child; standing on a hill that separated the two estates where he’d grown up. 

Perhaps it had been curiosity that had driven his acceptance of the invite from a student? To see the old village of Chiswick and the surrounding area would be an experience. Would he recognise any of it? And more importantly, would anyone there actually remember him? It had all been a long time ago when he had left. A different world to the one he lived in. 

As the carriage trundled on, his gaze did not fall upon anyone he recognised, but a flash of ginger hair from one of the passing peasantry meant he could not help looking towards Clement House when they reached that fork in the road. 

He stifled a sigh as old memories flooded his mind. 

Did she still reside there? Surely not, he reasoned. No doubt she was wed and living with a merchant somewhere grander, along with nine or more fine children. Only in story books did people return to their childhood home and meet old friends. His personal luck had never run that way. 

Still pleasantly smiling, Leo leaned across from his seat at that point and distracted his nostalgic thoughts. “This is part of our estate. The lane leads to the main gate. How do you like the countryside, Dr Smith?” he enquired, eager to gain approval.

“I like it very well,” John answered, not giving away much about his thoughts.

But Leo had sat back with a satisfied smile upon his lips. “The grounds around Royale Manor are full of colour at this time of year. Mama will have much to show you,” he remarked. “And my sisters will entertain you a great deal, no doubt.”

“Are they very accomplished?” John wondered. Please save him from wittering idiots, he silently begged.

“My sisters have much to recommend them,” Leo confidently bragged, “they are said to be great beauties. It would not surprise me if they have been snatched up by prospective husbands already.”

All John could do was hum his agreement. Time would tell if they would gain his interest. His present mood meant that it was highly unlikely to happen.

-pp-

The passing of a carriage was unimportant to young Bobby, the messenger boy who delivered several envelopes written in the personal hand of Lady Francine Jones. No, his eye was on the pretty girl in service at Ivy Cottage. Bobby had been looking for this opportunity for a while. It was his intention to ask Shona Hill to step out with him, but she merely squealed and rushed out onto the front path to greet her mistress as she arrived home.

“Mrs Noble. Mrs Noble!” the servant girl called out as two women entered through the entry gate to the front garden of a modest cottage.

“What is it, Hill?” the elder of the two asked. 

“Beg your pardon, Mrs Noble, but there has been a message from the big house,” Shona more calmly explained. “Lady Francine’s boy brought it.”

Feeling pleased, Bobby bowed politely when mentioned, but no one was paying him any attention. Their eyes were on the envelope. 

Mrs Noble took the envelope from Shona, broke the seal and scrutinised the contents. “Oh my, Donna. We have had an invitation. Look!” She thrust the paper into her daughter’s hand. “We have not been completely forgotten after all.”

Donna read the paper carefully, trying to conceal her excitement. “Perhaps we haven’t.”

“Indeed, this is good news. Hill, take my coat,” Mrs Noble commented, moving forward, dumped her hat and gloves into her faithful servant’s hands. “We have much to plan.”

Following her into the house, Donna grouched, “Mother, it is a day away.”

“You can never be too prepared,” was the answer. “Who knows. There might be a gentleman there who can be entertained. If you can be bothered to consider the idea in that fancy head of yours.”

All Donna could do was throw an exasperated glance at Shona as her hat was taken from her hands, and steel herself to listen to her mother’s plans with good grace. The snidey complaints would need extra prayers.

-pp-

Miss Donna Noble had always known she was different from other women but to say that she had been specially held in waiting for the ideal man was ridiculous. That sort of thing only happened in the romantic novels she had read, and she could merely dream of being such a heroine. Her mother, in particular, would have a field day with that idea.

No, Mrs Sylvia Noble despaired that her only child would ever get married. Ginger hair that curled every which way except for the right way was not a blessing; and the rampant freckles that decorated Donna’s skin meant that many an hour was spent dabbing them with lemon juice in a vain attempt to dull them down and stop looking so sun-kissed. The only true physical asset she had were her curves. Her daughter’s intelligent wit, however, was not to many men’s tastes. Not at all. 

Marriage had been close to happening for a short while, but inevitably the man’s interest had fizzled away, like it so often did. Sylvia despaired at times. Being widowed and no longer with the income from a steady settlement, living to the standard they had once enjoyed was only ever likely to happen if her daughter caught the eye of a gentleman in need of a wife. One day, the girl would get it into her thick head how to act towards men, but it looked like this day would not be that one. 

“Just smile politely and say nothing,” she ordered.

-pp-

Every notable person in the village and beyond had received an invitation to take tea at the big house. There had been a great deal of chatter about it with her friend Mrs Phillips, and Sylvia Noble had revelled in the theories offered as to why. Once they were sat in the parlour of Royale Manor, she could contemplate this welcomed experience. She almost glowed with pride when Lady Francine sat down quite close by.

They had both been generously invited up to the big house, to rub shoulders with the local nobility, and there had been talk of the possible appearance of a wealthy widower. Sylvia almost pinched herself with glee. Just the right sort of person for her daughter to meet and impress. IF she could get her to actually bother to impress a man! 

Several sideways hisses and ruffling of skirts had had no effect so far, but no one could ever accuse Sylvia Noble of not trying. She delicately put down her china teacup and asked as sweetly as she could, “Lady Francine, I hear we might be joined by your new visitor today. Will we get to see him?”

Lady Francine had lit up with interest. “Indeed, we will, if my husband and son, Lord Clive and Leo, can spare him for a few moments. Doctor Smith is an eminent university lecturer and has promised to break his visit in order to come take tea with us, but I fear he is a little late.” She glanced meaningfully at the embellished clock that sat upon the mantlepiece of her parlour thus causing several guests to admire its beauty, once again.

To be honest, Donna suspected the woman had invited him merely to push her eldest daughter at him. Not exactly unusual, because most of the other mothers there were hoping to do the same thing. As it was, she personally did not have a hope in hell of attracting his interest. Lady Francine’s daughters were both well-known beauties but the eldest, Miss Martha Jones, was stunning in all ways possible. No, Donna would not be surprised if Dr Smith were smitten with one of the girls on first sight. He’d certainly won Lady Francine’s favour before he’d even set foot in the house, which was a definite advantage in his favour. 

There was a sudden flurry of anticipation as the butler appeared to announce, “Lord Clive, Mister Leo, and Dr Smith, your ladyship.”

Lord Clive confidently strode in and briefly greeted his wife. Behind him swept in Leo accompanied by a tall slender man dressed in fine clothing, and he bowed low. “Lady Francine.”

“Dr Smith, how lovely to see you finally here,” she greeted him, allowing a brief touch on her outstretched hand. “Let me introduce you. This is my eldest daughter, Miss Martha Jones.”

“Miss Jones,” he accorded. 

Martha prettily blushed as she bobbed a greeting. Their visitor had already taken her breath away. 

“My younger daughter, Miss Patricia,” Lady Francine continued, and then named other guests; waiting for him to individually greet each introduced woman there in attendance. Finally, she made her way completely around the room to finish by introducing Donna and her mother. “And Mrs Noble with her daughter, Miss Noble.”

“Mrs Noble. Miss Noble,” Dr Smith gallantly greeted them.

In all honesty, Donna was impressed he was still able to show any interest after so many new names to learn. She bobbed a brief curtsey and mumbled something that was required, but she didn’t have high expectations of the encounter. The man was obviously there to be paired up with one of the much younger ladies, and it looked as though Martha was calling first dibs. 

From her removed position, Donna took the opportunity to examine him as he was seated by Lady Francine’s side, answering the questions set by her and her daughters. Yes, very pleasing, she thought. Older than Martha by half a decade, he spoke with gentility, intelligence, and animation. He would do very well for their services and make a fine husband. 

“What do you think of him?” Sylvia hurriedly whispered to Donna. She then bobbed her eyebrows in meaning.

“Mother,” Donna replied in soft exasperation, “you cannot be contemplating him for me?”

“Why not?” Sylvia retorted. “You are of a similar age.”

“Exactly. He will be seeking someone younger than me. Much younger. Someone with accomplishments,” Donna argued.

“You have many fine talents,” Sylvia countered. “You do,” she insisted when Donna’s face revealed her disbelief; for this sentiment was rarely stated, if at all. “And as a widower he may not require a new heir.”

Ah, there it was, Donna thought. The ever-present reminder that she could not bear many, if any, future children at all for any matrimonial candidate. Just what she wanted to hear. “Perhaps he expects a wife to produce a dozen children. In which case, I am unlikely to fulfil any of his requirements.” 

Sylvia did little more than glare back because Lady Francine had an announcement to make to the room. Lord Clive and Mister Leo would not be staying with them, but she was about to visit the garden room to show off her fine new display if they would all care to join her.

The impending excitement was almost too much for Donna to bear… Stifling a yawn, she got up to follow the other visitors.

-pp-

It was Miss Patricia Jones, youngest daughter of Lady Francine, who eventually brought John over to talk to Donna, when they had returned to the parlour to drink more tea. He’d been turning his head to glance in her direction every now and then whilst he spoke to the more impressive members of local society, so Patricia had finally given in to his unspoken request and led him over to the furthest part of the parlour where Donna sat patiently near her mother’s chair, ready to be of service.

To be quite frank, Patricia, or ‘Tish’ as she was called by her family, was fed up with his inattentiveness when speaking to people. She couldn’t see what the fascination with him was where Leo and Martha were concerned, and longed to get her escorting duties over and done with. Leading him over to the Nobles should bore him enough to get her revenge while she escaped for a while. 

“Have you spoken to Miss Noble yet, Dr Smith?” Patricia asked him as they neared her. 

“Indeed, I have not had the pleasure yet,” he answered, and turned to greet Donna again with his warmest smile as he sat beside her. “I hear you were recently living in London, Miss Noble.”

Seizing her opportunity to avoid any unwanted conversation with the Nobles, Patricia slipped away.

But Donna was not offended by either action. Instead, she wondered where he had heard such a thing about her. “Yes, with my grandfather, Dr Smith. Are you well acquainted with the City?” she enquired, glad to see Patricia dash off to do her mother’s bidding on the other side of the room. 

“Only a little,” he confessed, hoping he wouldn’t have to own up to too much. “Is your grandfather well? I hope the need for you to return here wasn’t due to his ill health.”

Ooh, he was probing, eh? “Nothing like that, thankfully,” Donna gladly replied. “Grandfather continues to run his business but without my help. I miss it.” 

“You liked it there?”

“Very much.” She smiled in remembrance. “Always something new to see, new books or articles to read, and new fashions to avoid.”

He laughed knowingly. “Some are best avoided. So, you like reading?”

“Oh yes. My grandfather has a book shop in Charing Cross Road. Do you know the area?”

“Ah yes!” he enthused. “There are many fine establishments there. What item do you like best?”

“Cataloguing,” she answered honestly. “I like cataloguing the books. Liked cataloguing the books,” she corrected herself.

“Perhaps you will get the chance to return,” he kindly suggested. 

She merely smiled in return, but her expression turned to horror when they clearly overheard a snippet of conversation. 

“Look at Dr Smith and her getting on like a house on fire. Of course, my Donna could get such a man, or any other man if she wanted to, despite all that business, if she’d just lower her standards. Why, old Mr Parkinson was asking after her the other day. That wouldn’t be too bad a match,” they heard Sylvia tell Mrs Phillips, one of the other matronly visitors. 

Mrs Phillips had once been inferior to Mrs Noble in status, so she now relished her new position of appearing charitable to her friend’s ideas. 

On hearing her mother’s boast, Donna’s cheeks immediately blazed red with embarrassment. How could she? How could she say such things, and in front of a complete stranger?! 

One whiff of interest and her mother was doing it again! This was too much. She had to get out. As soon as possible. “Please excuse me,” she quickly mumbled in John’s direction as she stood and headed for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** anyone who might read this should note that I've decreased their ages a little bit to fit the AU.  
>  **Inspired by:** [this artwork post](https://basmathgirl.tumblr.com/post/174268348029/imnotacommittee-look-how-pretty-this-is-id).

Once passed the hallway, she ran, aiming for the door to the garden outside, through any door that was away from the servants’ inquisitive concern. All she could think of was getting away and out of sight. 

The cold air outside hit her like a train; and she gasped whilst clutching her hands to her chest. What had she been thinking to enter the outside world without her shawl or even a bonnet? Her sleeveless dress did little to keep her upper body warm.

“Miss Noble?” a kind voice called out from behind. 

She immediately jumped in surprise. “Dr Smith,” she felt the need to confess, “my apologies. I had not expected anyone to follow me.”

His expression was not of horror, as she had expected, but was softened with sympathy. “The fault is mine for not catering to your needs. Here, let me give you my coat.”

“Oh no,” she gasped, trying to wave off his generosity. “There is no need.”

But he was determined to remove his jacket and lay it around her trembling shoulders as a makeshift cape. The gesture brought them close, almost nose to nose. “You are cold, Miss Noble, and today is not conducive for a lady without a warm shawl or coat.”

Gratefully snuggling into the elegant woollen jacket, she made a token denial. After all, he still had on more layers than she did, she reasoned, and it allowed her to admire his form-fitting brocade waistcoat. “Now you are without sufficient warmth, Dr Smith.” 

“I can survive,” he insisted, enjoying the nearness of her tender smile. “Do you wish to return to the parlour yet, or walk a way into the gardens?” 

To aide his unspoken request, he offered her his arm to hold. And to his delight, she readily placed a hand upon his forearm, enabling him to pull her body gently closer. 

“Thank you. I wish to enjoy the air and see the gardens, if I may. Lady Francine has had a great deal of fine work invested in it,” she said, accepting the ease of acquaintance he was offering. After a step or too, she could not hold her main thought in any longer. “Before we go any further, I need to apologise most profusely for my mother’s words, Dr Smith. She can be very…”

How best to describe her mother’s annoying, interfering, and cruel words? She looked at Dr Smith in exasperation as she sought the correct description. 

“A typical mother, Miss Noble?” he suggested. “My own was very similar.”

She nodded to reveal this might be true. “However, your mother had the consolation that you eventually married. I am so sorry,” she quickly tacked on when he grimaced in pain. “That part of your story precedes you, I’m afraid. It is all over the village that you are a widower.”

His composure restored, he allowed, “It would seem so. Not that my mother initially agreed with my choice. It was not until they died… It took death to gain a favourable word.”

Obviously, the subject still deeply pained him, so Donna switched the topic away from him. “Mine berates me for failing to get further than the aisle.”

“The aisle? What happened?”

How to put this sorry tale? “He…”

“Poor Miss Noble. Did he jilt you?!” 

Reluctantly, she nodded. “He eloped with his flibbertigibbet. Finding out I wasn’t going to inherit grandfather’s business was the final straw, apparently, that pushed him away.”

“What was the first?” he wondered.

It was with some evil satisfaction that she murmured, “Mother.”

“Oh. I see,” he said, noting the relevance. “A formidable mother-in-law, I would assume.”

“That is one description.” She then turned to face him. “But enough about that, for I am keeping you out in the cold, in only your shirtsleeves, Dr Smith. Please forgive me.”

“I assure you I welcomed the respite, Miss Noble,” he genially insisted. “Having many new faces to greet is a little overwhelming but I will concede that I need to return to our hosts. May I escort you back into the house?”

They turned upon the footpath, and both caught a glimpse of a hooded figure running along another path behind a low hedge, towards the kitchen garden. A figure dressed all in black.

“Who is that, Miss Noble? One of the servants?” John asked in keen interest.

“It is no one I recognise,” Donna admitted.

As they watched, the figure suddenly disappeared completely from view.

“Did you see that? Where did they go?” she queried. 

“Let us investigate,” he suggested, and was glad to gain a conspiratorial gleam of interest from his companion.

Walking as quickly as they dared, they reached the spot the figure had been, and could see nothing at all to explain how the person had vanished from sight. 

“Did we see a ghost?” she pondered.

“No,” he insisted. “I believe it was conjuring trick of some sort.”

“What is this? Oh look,” Donna begged as she bent down; and picked up a single white feather for them to examine. “Perhaps we saw an angel.”

He was not ready to make such a leap of faith. “That is one explanation, but we need to consider this more carefully since I presume this garden has a dovecot. And you, Miss Noble, need to be back in the warmth. Let me help you don my coat properly.”

“Oh, there is no need,” she began to deny, but his hands had already removed the makeshift cloak from her shoulders, causing her to tremble with the cold.

Yes, that was the reason, she told herself, and not the fact a handsome man was stood right in front of her, gazing into her eyes with a soft intensity that rarely graced her presence. 

“There. That is better,” he declared, when the coat was upon her arms and encasing her body. As for her amber-ringed eyes, well, he would be willing to indulge in their kind fondness for as long as eternity. “We… that is you… or maybe I… yes, we should return,” he stammered. 

Could he sound more idiotic, he wondered. Yet his new friend continued to smile upon him, and all felt right in that moment. 

“We should. Alas, I fear tongues will wag about our walk,” she confessed.

“Two gentlefolk, walking in a garden. How scandalous,” he said to make her laugh. “It will make a pleasant enough diversion before they marry me off to someone.”

“No doubt that will be Miss Jones,” Donna commented without thinking. “They expect fine things from your relationship, and Martha is a lovely girl.”

“They do?” He was astounded that they’d already picked him out a wife. “I assure you, Miss Noble, that I have not entertained such thoughts since coming to Royale Mansion. My intention was to distract myself from the recent loss of my…. friend.”

“Loss, Dr Smith?” she commiserated. Nobody knew of this information. “I am so sorry you have suffered so. May I ask how they…? Or would you rather not reveal such a hurt?”

“I have to face it, Miss Noble,” he replied with some regret. “I had planned to court her, to perhaps make her my fiancée one day, but before I had the chance to make such an offer, there was an accident and she fell.” Only with his eyes did he acknowledge the gasp of sympathy from his companion. “Unbeknown to her family, it was a clifftop prone to crumbling.”

“How awful,” she gasped. “Then you are very brave to risk walking with me today,” she stated to offer moral encouragement. “Do you want to me to inform the other ladies of your late fiancée’s demise?”

“She wasn’t…,” he began to correct but Donna interrupted.

“Almost fiancée. No one here need know the proposal didn’t take place,” she determined. 

“Would it stop them trying to marry me off?” he speculated. 

“It would. For a while.” She thought for a moment and added, “I cannot guarantee the length of this lull in their interference.”

“Then please do so,” he agreed, managing to smile. The ease of this new friendship gave him to the courage to broach the subject that had been uppermost in his mind since he’d set eyes on her. “While I have the chance to ask,” he continued as they walked together, “may I enquire if you are related to the Nobles of Clement House.”

The breath stopped in her throat for a second, but it was the pain of loss in her heart that affected her so. “Clement House? Yes, there is a strong connection. May I ask why the question?”

It was her! It truly was! His grin went wider as he revealed his identity. “Then you might remember me, Miss Noble. There was a time I called you ‘Donna’ while we were alone. For we were once great friends.”

What! Her eyes went wide in shock. “Master John? Johnny? My friend Johnny?” she faintly murmured, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth. There was a resemblance, she had to admit, but she could be mistaken. Johnny had been fair haired rather than dark, but those soft brown eyes of his were familiar. “No, surely not. It has been years. Are you really him?”

“Yes,” he quietly confirmed. “It has been a long time since we last met. Almost twenty years, by my reckoning.”

“I cannot believe this,” she gasped. “Johnny, after all these years. Oh Dr Smith, this is incredible.”

“Have I changed a great deal?” he queried. 

“You are taller,” she allowed, causing him to laugh. “Still thin.”

Looking down, he dared not mention how she had filled out, but the laughter reminded him of how much he had missed her when he had first left for boarding school, aged eight years old. “With luck we will get the chance to discuss what has happened since we last met. Hopefully, before I leave tomorrow.”

“I am afraid not,” she confessed. “Our circumstances have altered a great deal and Mother and I have not been invited to any other social gathering. Another now lives at Clement House.”

“Who?” 

“My uncle inherited it when Father died.”

Heartbroken, he asked, “Where would I find you?” 

“At Ivy Cottage,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. It would seem odd for him to visit them, under normal circumstances; but they had been friends, best friends, as children. Would he see it that way too? 

“Then I shall do my very best to seek you out,” he promised as they reached the door back into Lady Francine’s home.

-pp-

“Why did you go outside?” Lady Francine demanded to know at the sight of their return.

“I erm…,” Donna began an explanation, wishing she could still hide inside John’s coat, but she had returned it to its owner as soon as they had re-entered the house.

“We thought we saw something suspicious in your gardens. An intruder,” John continued the excuse. “We searched everywhere but were unable to find the culprit.”

“Hmm. I see,” Lady Francine answered, obviously most displeased. “If you encounter anyone on your way home, Miss Noble, I request that you inform us immediately.”

“I will,” Donna readily promised, and then returned to her previous seat, knowing that she had been dismissed. All she could do now was finish her tea and head home. 

John shot her an apologetic glance, and then was led away, to talk with the elder Miss Jones. Yes, his sails had been clipped. For now. He did his level best to smile, but it irritated him a great deal that his movements were being policed in such a way. He wanted to talk to Donna again. No, he needed to talk to her, to explain why he had disappeared all those years ago. In short, he needed an ally in this sea of social scheming and she would be the ideal person, he decided. Especially if she was still the same Donna he had known.

-pp-

Trudging home with her mother was not the highlight of Donna’s day. In fact, it felt more like a post-mortem as they left the Royale Manor estate.

“Well?” Sylvia demanded. “How did it go?”

“How did what go?” Donna wearily answered. 

Sylvia snorted her scorn. “You know very well what I mean. Everybody saw you return from the garden with Dr John Smith. If that’s his real name. Seems like a made up one, if you ask me.”

“It’s his real name,” Donna insisted. “And you know him.”

“Do I? I don’t think I do.”

“You would have to go back a few years to remember him. Back to when I was eight years old, to be precise.” When her mother still looked blank, Donna provided, “It’s Johnny. My friend Johnny. We used to play in the barn at Gallifrey House.”

That did the trick. “Dr Smith is Johnny? Oh my!” Sylvia gasped. “Not that we ought to call him such a childish name anymore. But I cannot believe it. That distinguished gentleman is young Master John.”

“It does not matter if you believe it or not as that will not alter the truth,” Donna proclaimed. 

“Well,” Sylvia voiced more quietly. “Who would have thought.” 

Donna merely nodded as her mother talked. It was best that she didn’t say more. 

“And him a fancy college don now. All grown up. It is such a shame that you did not meet him when you were a more eligible age, and he went and wed someone else,” Sylvia noted. “You were right; he will want a younger bride now to replace her. Whereas you will not catch his attention in such a way now. You would be no good for his intentions. Such a shame. Still, he could not find a finer girl than Miss Jones. There is none so beautiful or intelligent in the whole county.” 

“No Mother,” Donna despondently replied. “She is extremely accomplished.”

Could she even hope to rekindle her friendship with him? If he married Martha, there would be no hope. He would be placed far above them. The thought of losing him again made her want to weep.

-pp-


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** runaways

The interruptions to her thoughts never seemed to stop. Donna had wanted to wallow in her childhood memories, relive those golden, hazy days as Johnny and she had climbed trees, investigated ditches, probed ponds, rescued any injured animal they’d found, quizzed the gamekeeper to within an inch of his life, and laid on the grassy hills to look at the sky. All the things children tend to do when left to their own devices. 

Yet Sylvia Noble was on a mission, and she was determined to mine every crumb of information. “What did he say to you?”, “Where does he work?”, “How much money does he receive each year?”, and “Why didn’t you try harder?” were all questions aimed at her daughter. To the point that Donna wanted to hide away. 

Eventually, all the nagging and recriminations became too much, so she took herself off to bed; only to lie awake for hours. Her mind kept returning to that last summer when she had raced across the countryside with Johnny, always eager to see a new bird, watch a fascinating insect, or test out any ripe fruit in the orchard. It had been easy to go wherever he led them. 

He always had some new idea to experiment with once the chores were done. Sometimes instead of; but usually she arrived to help him finish his tasks, and then they would run. Run up the hills and back down in glee. Always laughing.

Then one day his grandfather had found out that his daily chum was a local girl and not the groom’s boy who lived above the stable. To say he was displeased would be a gross understatement, for he was furious with his grandson’s behaviour. It was decreed that Master John Smith would go away to boarding school as soon as possible. 

Wiping away a tear, Donna remembered how she had cried, standing alone on the grass verge as his carriage had driven passed, his sad face clearly visible through the window despite being told not to look out.

What should she do now? If Johnny had managed to go away and make something of his life, she could too. All she had to do was decide how. 

In fact, as sleep tried to claim her, she had hatched a plan to run away, back to London. It would mean taking the first post carriage that left the following morning. If she could get to London, she would beg her grandfather to allow her to return to the book shop and avoid her mother’s vicious tongue. It didn’t matter whether her grandfather could offer only board and lodgings or not; she just wanted to be back in his shop again. Back where she felt she could be useful again amongst the books. Back where she belonged. 

The only problem was the journey, she had to concede. It was not normal for a gentlewoman to travel alone without a maid to accompany them. Yet Dr Smith had mentioned needing to leave Chiswick and return to London. Could she possibly ask to travel with him as her protection? 

No, she could not do that, she decided after much deliberation. Tongues would wag about her intentions. Hadn’t their greeting in the parlour proved that the village would see all sorts of things into them disappearing together?

With a heavy heart, she knew her journey would be undertaken without him, and she steeled herself to deal with any situation that might arise.

-pp-

That same evening, the meal at Royale Manor had not been as friendly as his earlier encounter. Holding his spoon midway to his mouth, John sighed as Lady Francine pinned him with her glare. “Are you not hungry, Dr Smith?” she accused him.

“Perhaps he is not well,” Martha pondered, ready to defend anyone’s behaviour.

“Or he is sickening for Miss Noble,” Patricia muttered sarcastically under her breath.

Ignoring her barb, John answered, “I am full, thank you, Lady Francine.”

“If he is ill, then I blame your afternoon guests, Martha,” Leo teased. “Making him sit and eat cake with all those old women would cause any man to falter.”

She pouted prettily at him before countering, “They are not all old.”

“Just most of them,” he laughed into his glass of wine. 

Any glance towards Lord Clive was obviously useless, John found, in order to defend his friend. The man was only interested in his dinner. “I have to protest,” John cautiously disagreed. 

“You probably have one lady in mind,” Patricia saucily commented. 

“Tish, stop it,” Martha chided. “Dr Smith was merely being polite.”

It did not surprise Patricia in the least that her sister was keen to keep on the good side of their visitor. She’d done nothing but moon over him the whole of their evening meal. “You seemed to favour Miss Noble, Dr Smith,” Patricia noted. 

Hearing the judgement in her voice, John carefully cleared his throat before answering, “I have known Miss Noble a great many years, when we were children, but had not seen her until today.”

“What was she like?” Martha eagerly asked. She had difficulty imagining the dour spinster as a young girl. 

“Well…” He pondered how to answer.

“Didn’t she live somewhere grand back then?” Leo wondered, absently helping himself to more food.

Lady Francine watched him with fondness. “It was Clement House. Such a shame the father died and left them with hardly any money.”

“It happens with lots of widows,” Lord Clive dismissed the topic. “Miss Noble isn’t the first woman to lose her dowry, and she won’t be the last.”

“But we should sympathise with her status,” Martha tried to maintain. She hated seeing anyone being treated unfairly.

“We do what we can, Dr Smith, in the circumstances,” Lady Francine replied, speaking for John’s benefit, “and include such people when able.” She then threw a glare at Martha to shut her up on the subject. “We will miss you when you leave tomorrow. Can you not stay a little longer?”

“Yes, please stay,” Leo begged.

Martha nodded along in agreement.

John smiled at her before answering the table. “I am afraid not. I have pressing business in London that I cannot ignore any longer.” He did not mention that the business in question was due to his sister returning home. His students did not need to know everything about him. 

“What about returning here in the summer months?” Leo offered.

That might help his plans, John realised. “Then I would be honoured to return.”

-pp-

Creeping out of the cottage at an early hour in the morning, Donna had raced to meet the post carriage and pay for her transportation.

It hadn’t taken long to persuade the carriage driver to let her travel with him to London; much to her surprise. Even the cost had been minimal. 

There was another passenger, he’d said; so Donna had readied herself to cope with an hour in close proximity with a total stranger. A hat pin came in very handy for such things, apparently, if a well-aimed slap didn’t work. 

“Thank you,” she politely worded to the driver and he opened the carriage door. “Dr Smith!” she gasped on seeing the occupant.

“Miss Noble,” he returned with delight before he tipped his hat and held out a gloved hand in invitation. “Let me assist you into the carriage.”

It took no denial to place herself within his care. Within moments they were off, heading to London at a steady pace.

“To what do I owe the honour of travelling with you today?” he asked, sitting her by his side on the padded seat.

Should she admit to running away? “I am going to visit my grandfather,” she coyly supplied instead. 

Before she could say anything else, a deep male voice called out, “Good luck to you both!”

They turned their attention to the carriage window and saw Mr Woods the innkeeper’s groom standing on the kerb, bowing with due respect to them. 

Gracing him with a nod, John patted Donna’s hand where it lay on his arm. “I do hope he does not think we are eloping,” he joked.

“Eloping?” Donna brought a hand up to her mouth in shock. Why would he say such a thing? And would the assumption actually be made by someone? “Surely not.”

“Who knows how such a person thinks?” John wondered. 

“I presume you know all too well how Lady Francine thinks.”

“Ah yes. Lady Francine is a formidable woman,” he replied. “Yet her intentions are good.”

“Do I take it that your interactions with Miss Martha Jones went well?” she asked. “That intention was very clear.”

“Yes. Well,” he spluttered, adjusting the tightness of the cravat at his throat. “Miss Jones is a delight.”

“You sound as though she is not to your tastes. Surely not?” Donna wondered. “How could such an intelligent, beautiful and sweet natured woman not gain your interest? I am amazed.”

“If you remember, Miss Noble,” he haughtily pointed out, “I was not in search for a new wife when I came here.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she teased. “The heart does not love according to any carefully laid plans.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Plans do have a tendency to go awry.” Contemplating her hand resting on his arm for some moments, he quietly stated, “I am sorry I never wrote to you when I was sent away to school. We were not allowed to pen more than one letter home a week: and…”

“And it would have been embarrassing for the other boys to find out you wrote to a girl,” she guessed.

“Well.” He blushed, confirming this was the case. “Things were a little complicated.” Thoughts of the bullying flashed through his head.

“No doubt very busy too,” she graciously allowed. “I hear schoolwork takes up a lot of time.”

“Indeed, it did,” he agreed. “There was hardly any time for my own needs.” He then added gently, “I thought of you a great deal, and regret not being able to tell you what had happened or where I’d gone.”

“Don’t worry,” she consoled him. “We heard via Collins who informed our maid that you had been sent away. All the details about your grandfather’s anger.” 

“Does this mean that we can resume our friendship?” he pleaded. “Am I forgiven?”

“Depends whether you are happy to do so or if me being female is still a problem,” she teased.

“I’d love it,” he assured her, giving her hand a squeeze. “And my first act of being your friend again will be to escort you to your grandfather’s home; to the front door.”

“There is no need,” she began to politely decline the offer, but he was persistent.

“I insist. A young lady should never have to travel alone, and I can make sure he treats your request to return to London with due respect.”

Her eyes lit up with delight. “Careful, you might be stuck with me forever.”

In return, he huffed his scorn that it would be a hardship; and then changed their topic of conversation. “Do you remember when we rescued that badger from the ditch?”

“Oh yes!” she squealed with a laugh. “The sight of you standing there, soaked through, dripping with mud. So funny!”

“And it bit me,” he added, laughing with her. “Ungrateful creature.”

“At least that calf liked you,” she consoled him.

“You mean the one caught in the thicket?” He grinned in remembrance. “Wouldn’t leave me alone until we climbed over the gate to get away.”

“I think they call it animal magnetism,” she laughed. “Not all of us have it.”

“You obviously didn’t when you screamed blue murder in the barn.”

“That horse sneezed down the back of my neck,” she protested. “You had annoyed it by nicking its hay.”

“It was for a good cause,” he defended. “I would never let a horse go hungry.”

“Or any other animal,” she added fondly. 

They continued to bring up happy memories and then eventually went on to discuss books that they liked, to entertain the remainder of their journey.

-pp-

The carriage pulled up outside the book shop just before noon, and Donna took a deep breath to garner her courage. They both looked upwards, towards the rooms where the family lived.

“Here goes,” she mumbled as the driver opened the door, lowered the steps, and held out a hand to help her out.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” John offered again, expecting the same polite refusal.

“No, thank you. I should be alright,” she nervously answered. 

“I shall wait here a few minutes,” he decided, “until you are safely in.”

She knew he was providing an escape route should her appearance be unwelcomed, and gratefully smiled at him. “Goodbye, Dr Smith. I shall write to you, very soon,” she promised, clutching her bag that now possessed his calling card with a suitable address. 

“Goodbye, Miss Noble. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance again,” he said, giving her hand one last fond squeeze. “Until we meet again.”

One more friendly glance between them, and then she was gone, entering the book shop to the sound of a tinging bell. As he sat watching her disappear, John vowed that he would be back to see her at the first opportunity, taking propriety into consideration.

Inside the shop, Donna was met by the chief salesman, James Benwick. “Good morning, Miss Noble,” he gasped on seeing her. “Welcome back. It is good to see you.”

“And you, Mr Benwick. Is my grandfather home?” she asked. 

“Mr Mott is up in his rooms.” James pointed upwards, in case she had forgotten, due to some bizarre accident. 

She voiced her thanks and swept through the store to the door that led upwards and the private quarters, inhaling the familiar heady smell of books with delight as she walked. 

“Grandfather!” she called when she got to the top of the staircase. “Where are you?”

“Donna!” her grandfather, Wilfred Mott (‘Wilf’ to his friends) exclaimed, opening the door to the front parlour. “I was not expecting you. Oh my. It’s gladdens my heart to see you.” He rushed to hug her close. “Is something wrong? Why didn’t you write?”

“It was a sudden decision,” she replied. “I wanted to visit you. I hope that is okay.”

“Of course.”

“Then I need to signal to my friend,” she announced, and raced to the window to wave at John below that everything was alright. 

“Who is that gentleman?” Wilf wondered as someone within a carriage below waved back.

“An old friend who was kind enough to escort me home,” she supplied, still waving as the carriage trotted down the road. 

“Talking of home,” Wilf cautiously began, “why aren’t you there with your mother?”

Turning to face the music, as it were, Donna sobered. “Ah, about that. I have left to sort of runaway.”

“Runaway!”

“I could not stand it any longer, Grandfather,” she cried. “I _have_ to make something of myself before I turn into her shadow.”

He sighed in understanding. “Sylvia may be my daughter, but she can make me want to escape her too at times.”

Donna knew that she would have to tread carefully with him, let him get used to her being back before she made her request to remain. Her aim was to make herself irreplaceable first. “Shall I arrange us some lunch?”

-pp-


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** and now the ~~arse~~ appearance...

“Donna! DONNA!” Wilf called out in exasperation as he strode through the house the next morning. 

“What is it, Grandfather?” she called back, as she ran to find out. 

He was stood in the parlour; winced at her, and shook his head before holding up a sheet of paper. A letter received in the first post. “I have heard from your mother. Begging me to confirm or deny the rumours,” he proclaimed, thrusting the paper towards her. 

“What rumours?” she faintly asked.

“That man. _That_ gentleman who accompanied you here is, according my daughter, a seducer… a scoundrel… who has lured you away into a secret marriage in order to disgrace us all,” he loudly declared. “Why does she think such a despicable thing? What tale did you give her before you left?”

“I said no such thing, Grandfather. Dr Smith is my friend, and he offered to bring me here as an act of kindness. His thoughts and intentions are elsewhere, I assure you,” she vowed. “Please do not think ill of him when all I wanted to do was leave Chiswick to get away from Mother’s accusing tongue.”

“What has she been accusing you of?”

“What doesn’t she accuse me of?” Donna sighed. “She embarrassed Dr Smith and I by boasting about his regard for me; and then she berated me for not capturing his heart. I cannot do anything right in her eyes.”

Wilf hesitated in embracing his granddaughter, for he felt as though there was more to this story. “Hush now, child. It cannot be that bad. She seems certain you have eloped. Perhaps it would be best if you returned as soon as possible.”

“No, I want to stay here,” she said from next to his chest. “It is merely a misunderstanding. I will write to her to explain right away.”

“You can’t stay here for long.”

She pulled away to beg, “Why can’t I return to the bookshop permanently? Please, Grandfather.”

“You cannot, now that your father is dead. Your place is by your mother’s side, supporting her,” Wilf determined. “Working in the bookshop is not the place for a lady, as well you know.”

“I am only a lady in name. I cannot claim such a privilege anymore,” she whimpered. “With no dowry or property to attract a gentleman, I am good for nothing but shopwork anyway, so I do not understand why I cannot return to the work I love.”

“Enough!” fumed Wilf. “Mr Bennett may have thought you were an heiress but that was his mistake, and I will not make a great error by allowing you back for someone else to abuse in such a way.”

“But Grandfather,” she began to tearfully plead.

“I have spoken,” he insisted. “Do not continue to vex me. I shall write to your mother and inform her that she is wrong about your elopement. Once she hears, she will insist that you return immediately, and I cannot blame her one jot!” 

“This is my life,” Donna tried again. “I tried to make you both happy by marrying, but good fortune did not smile upon me.”

“What about this friend of yours?”

Feeling slightly derailed, she asked, “My friend? What about him?”

“Will he not take you on?” Wilf persisted. 

“He is not in need of a housekeeper,” she answered, now puzzled. 

“Not as a housekeeper, my girl. As a wife,” he clarified. 

“Oh no. No, no no,” she hurriedly denied, stepping backwards. “You cannot force him into taking me on. That would be evil. All he did was show me some friendship.”

“You like him though,” he considered. 

“Of course, I do. Enough to consider his feelings and emotions in this,” she pompously confirmed. “He did no wrong towards me and has been nothing but a true gentleman.”

“Hmm.” Wilf cradled his jaw, thinking deeply as he contemplated his granddaughter. “I shall deal with this. You may go.”

“In what way are you dealing with this?” she demanded. 

His eyes almost blazed with fire. “I will tell you when the decision is made. Now return to your precious books.”

“I’m not happy about this,” she loudly complained as she stomped away.

“I know you aren’t, Sweetheart,” he softly said in her wake. “I will try and do right by you. Please trust me.”

He then walked to his desk to compose a letter.

-pp-

The book shop seemed too stifling as she fought her anger and disappointment. Rising from her seat, she threw the book she had been reading onto the cushion to vent her frustration. What she needed was some fresh air. A walk in her favourite London park should be exactly what she needed to improve her mood.

Having grabbed up her bonnet, gloves, shawl, and parasol to use as a potential weapon as well as shade, she raced down the stairs and into the main part of the shop.

“Can I help you, Miss Noble?” she was immediately asked. 

“No, Mr Benwick. Please tell my grandfather I am going for a walk.”

“On your own?” he queried in horror. “Please let me call the girl to accompany you.”

He didn’t even know the servant girl’s name, she inwardly sneered. The knowledge flamed her anger. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own, but I promise to keep to a safe path.”

“Very well, ma’am,” Benwick reluctantly agreed, and then ran to inform his employer of the situation. 

Now feeling free, Donna stepped out into the street and turned north. It was a short walk to Russell Square, and she was familiar with the terrain. Enough to be aware of any possible assailant. 

She had just passed the entry gates and spied a glorious display of blooms when she heard, “Good day, Miss Noble.”

In delight she turned to return the greeting. “Good day, Dr Smith. How lovely to see a friendly face again.”

“Ah. The family reunion did not go as planned I see,” he commiserated, and offered his arm for her to take. “Shall we walk a little way up the path to see the doves?”

“Why not.” She ready accepted his offer, amazed that the gesture had quickly become familiar. “Has your business meeting been successful?” 

“As much as I can hope,” he answered. “It always feels uncomfortable to deal with such things. I am happier when I return to my academic duties.”

“You must be,” she agreed. 

Some minutes later her sunny smile instantly died on her lips when her gaze landed on a nearby gentleman and his companion who appeared on the footpath about four yards away. Smug delight emanated from him and he hugged the woman with him closer. 

“You are the empress of my heart,” he could be heard to gush into her ear; and the woman then giggled with joy.

However, their route on the path was soon blocked by Donna and John, so she forced herself to say, “It’s Mr Bennett,” to her friend.

Lance Bennett slowly lifted his gaze to take in Donna and John in fine detail. “Why, Miss Donna Noble. We meet again,” he said without a trace of apology for having abandoned her at the altar. “Let me introduce my wife to you. Mrs Nerys Bennett.”

“How do you do, Mrs Bennett,” Donna replied with a courteous bob. “Mr Bennett, this is my friend, Dr John Smith.”

John politely held out one hand for Lance to shake. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Bennett. Mrs Bennett.”

Lance shook the offered hand. “How do you know Miss Noble here?” he near demanded.

But to his surprise, John waved the question away. “We do not want to reveal all our secrets at once, and have much to do, so we will bid you a good day.”

“Good day to you,” Lance automatically responded, and stood in shock as the couple sauntered away.

“That is her?” Nerys loudly whispered to him, a sneer on her pretty face. “Such a pale and freckled old thing.”

He merely nodded his agreement before continuing their walk.

For her part, Donna was trembling with shock. Never had she expected to see Lance again; let alone see him with his new love interest. She was truly mortified to have been humiliated in this way, and in front of Dr Smith too. To top it all, his new wife was keen to add insults. 

“Miss Noble,” John gently said, but she did not respond. “Miss Noble,” he uttered more firmly. “Are you ill?”

She stopped walking and faced him and his concern properly. “I am well, Dr Smith, but a little taken aback, I must admit. I am so sorry you had to witness that.”

“Miss Noble,” he softly murmured, cupping her cheek, “I am glad I could be here to offer my support when others seek to offend.”

“You have also allowed some of the rumours to follow us,” she noted as she eyed his hand resting on her face.

“Rumours?” he wondered. 

“My mother has written to Grandfather to ask if it is true we have eloped together. Who would have thought I could be the subject of such gossip?” she half joked. “When I thought being jilted had been the summit of my infamy,” she added on a sob. “Hopefully, Mother will reverse the shame I am currently held in, but I fear I have fallen too far.”

It had been instinctual to allow him to wrap her up in a hug, for her to take any ounce of comfort she could find and rely upon his friendship. His embrace was a haven in the storm her life had become, but she was not unaware how else her emotions were betraying her in that moment. Yes, she had loved Lance in her own way, and would have made every effort to be happy with him, but the friendly relationship Dr John Smith was offering also lured other temptations to appear as her mood calmed. 

Lifting her head and gazing into his tender eyes made her want more from him. More, like delicate kisses and sweet loving words whispered into her ear. If she was honest with herself, the ‘more’ could easily become physical acts of devotion; and that was not allowed. It was not her place to give such attention, let alone to yearn so desperately for his touch. 

Using an index finger, he wiped away some stray tears that lay upon her cheek. Her trusting eyes fascinated him. They pulled him into a world that he never wanted to leave. Within her tearful gaze lay all that he had ever wanted or could need. But should he take this step? 

“Do not cry so, Miss Noble,” he huskily cooed. “We will find a way to resolve this.”

“How?” she heard herself question as his lips moved closer. Would he? Please, a silent voice in her head begged. 

When his mouth descended enough to place a brief kiss upon her cheek, she thought her heart would explode with happiness. A secret joy to be held within. 

“Time for tea, I think,” he quietly said instead, as his feelings warred with his social conventions. “Are you willing to come with me?”

An ambiguous question, perhaps but she was more than ready to answer. “Of course,” she responded with a smile. “Where were you thinking of taking me?”

-pp-

They easily found a small tearoom that offered refreshments. In hardly any time at all, they ordered a pot of tea and something to eat.

John carefully put his emptied cup of tea down and carefully considered his next words. “Miss Noble, this may sound odd, but I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” she wondered over the lip of her own cup. 

“Concerning my sister,” he began to say, but Donna accidentally interrupted him. 

“Sister? I didn’t know you had a sister! I only knew of your late brother’s existence,” she blurted out. 

“Yes, my sister, Jennifer, was born a short while after I left for school. My mother’s confinement was the reason for my stay with my grandfather. Anyway, Jennifer will return home tomorrow,” he bumbled, “and she will need a someone to be with her for safety, and for entertainment, I suppose, to fend off boredom. The maid who will accompany her has to return to Lyme Regis immediately. There is no one else to be her future companion. May I suggest to her that you fulfil that requirement?”

“Dr Smith, that would be…” She blushed prettily. This would be the answer to all her problems: staying in London close to her grandfather’s shop, and away from her mother. Plus, there would be the added bonus of Dr Smith himself. Should she say yes? Looking into his eyes, her answer was easy to form but she still needed to be cautious. “Would it cause you any awkwardness by having me as an employee?”

“Of course not,” he insisted to entice her. “Think of it as staying with us on a more permanent basis, rather than an employee. Instead of wages, I shall give you an allowance. Does that sound better?”

“It does. Much better.” She nodded; her mind made up. “Please enquire on my behalf.”

“Then you shall meet Jennifer at the soonest possible time,” he confidently proclaimed. “I am sure her regard for you will instantly assure you the position.”

“What if she dislikes me on sight?” she fretted. “It might be someone else she would rather choose instead.”

His grin reassured her. “Not possible,” he maintained. “In fact, I am so sure, I shall engage you as her companion with immediate effect. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful.” She almost clapped her hands in glee.

All she had to do now was inform her mother.

-pp-

John had accompanied Donna back to her grandfather’s home and entered with her to explain her new situation. Wilf had been shocked to see such a fine gentleman in his shop, holding on to his granddaughter with determination. It had almost been beyond him to refuse.

“There is nothing for you to worry about, Mr Mott,” John had assured him. “Miss Noble will accompany my sister and live under my protection. She will want for nothing.”

“How old is this sister of yours, Dr Smith, if you don’t mind me asking?”

It seemed such a petty item to worry about, in light of what her grandfather might have asked about, so John had no problem in revealing, “She is nineteen; almost twenty years old, so she needs the careful guidance of a trusted friend.”

“More like a mother,” Wilf noted, causing Donna to flinch. “My girl Donna should be an excellent influence on her; and raise a smile or two.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” John readily agreed, smiling fondly at Donna. “If we have all come to an agreement, I shall send a carriage tomorrow morning to collect Donna and her things. Or is there anything else you are worried about?”

“No, I can’t think of anything,” Wilf replied, giving John’s hand a friendly shake. “Just let me know if you need me.”

Saying their goodbyes, Donna was left to enjoy her remaining hours in her grandfather’s company. And if he had contacted Dr Smith to arrange a meeting that day, she didn’t have it within her to disapprove at all.

-pp-

With a great deal of satisfaction, Donna closed the drawer that now held her undergarments, and sighed in relief. She was here, living in London, separate from her mother, with her best friend, and the prospect of more. It was a very slight prospect, but the fact that it existed at all gladdened her heart.

It had taken only a day to get this far. A letter had quickly reached her mother, and a message returned post haste. “You have not eloped? But I have informed everyone of your disgrace,” Sylvia had written. Further on she had put, “It is a relief that you went with Dr Smith to gain refined employment. Yet I am not pleased you have sought out a domestic position. It is beneath you to do such a thing.”

All in all, it was best that she didn’t pass on what was said about Dr Smith himself since her mother had even taken the news of her employment reasonably well, considering that she still thought they held a higher place in society. Sylvia Noble could never be accused of being too humble. It certainly helped her ignore the fact Lady Francine had dropped them like a ton of bricks once relative poverty struck and they had been forced to move out of Clement House.

So much for poverty being a great leveller. 

Donna smirked at her reflection as the thought crossed her mind. At least she was benefitting from the situation, for a change, and living a life.

Not the life she had once anticipated, with a husband, a home, and children; but she had gained some independence for the time being. For once, her mother’s opinion would not affect her life at all. If Miss Jennifer Smith suddenly took umbrage, however, she could kiss this life goodbye.

-pp-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** a shorter chapter today. Sorry.

There was a hesitant knock on her bedroom door, and then John burst in to excitedly ask, “Donna, are you able to come downstairs immediately?”

“Why? What has happened?” she wondered, standing to go. 

“My sister Jennifer has arrived and wants to see you,” he replied, almost bouncing on the spot. “She should be resting after her tiring long journey, but she is willing to meet you right away.”

His excitement was contagious, and she readily followed him down the staircase. “Do I look presentable?” she fretted.

“Of course,” he assured her after a sweeping glance. And then ruined it by joking, “If she ignores your second head.”

She felt that the thump on his arm was totally deserved, despite him laughing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said to placate her, rubbing his arm as he still chuckled, leading the way. “I am sure Jennifer should be in here.” He opened the door and bustled her into the parlour. 

Entering the room, Donna saw a pretty young woman who seemed to be the polar opposite of John. Where he had brown hair, she was incredibly fair; his eyes were a soft brown yet her eyes were a vivid blue; and he was tall, whereas she was much shorter, although average height at a couple of inches less than Donna. 

John proudly introduced them. “Miss Donna Noble, this is my sister, Miss Jennifer Smith.”

There were mutual greetings and formal bobbing of curtseys. “I have heard much about you,” the younger woman gushed. 

“Jenny, a little bit overwhelming,” he murmured in warning, but Donna easily heard him.

“Give over,” she chided him. “I like a nice reaction,” she aimed more towards Jenny, causing the girl’s face to light up. “Makes it worth the journey.” Taking the invite to be seated, she continued, “So what has Johnny been saying about me?”

He immediately groaned in exasperation. “I don’t go by that boyhood name anymore.”

“I know.” She smirked at Jenny. “He has gone all grown up on me. It’s Dr Smith now, apparently.”

“It _is_ Dr Smith,” Jenny remarked, a confused frown crinkled her forehead. 

“Donna, or should I correctly say, Miss Noble, is teasing me, Jenny,” he enjoyed informing her. “Her ignorance is a pretence intended to amuse.”

“Are you amused?” Donna brightly wondered. 

“Very much so,” he confirmed. 

Thoroughly intrigued, Jenny looked between the two, trying to make sense of this new dynamic. Her brother had never acted this way with any other woman; or man, now that she thought about it. Was this normal?

Seeing the confused expression, Donna explained to her, “We are very old friends. I do not think I would get away with saying such things if we were to meet these days.”

“Technically, we did meet recently,” he remarked. 

Made sense to Donna. “Yes, but that was a reacquaintance. Surely it doesn’t count.”

“Well…” He mulled it over in his mind. “You could argue either way.”

“Not knowing what else to say, Jenny suddenly offered, “Tea, anyone?”

The expression Donna threw John was pure ‘oops, I did it again’, but she was not sorry in the slightest. Only time would tell if the feeling would linger.

-pp-

“What do you think of Miss Noble?” he hesitantly asked Jenny later when she had retired for the night. “Do you approve?”

She huffed a sigh. “John, you can call her ‘Donna’ in front of me. You know her long enough and well enough to do so.” 

“It would also be inappropriate,” he corrected. 

Taking hold of his hands, she insisted, “We are living as a family, under one roof, and I like her. She brings out the best side of you.”

“Best?” he queried, now curious. 

“The side that is happy and at ease. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

“Well, there is that,” he reluctantly allowed. “Yet, I cannot think of her as family; she is an employee.” 

“No, I don’t think she is,” Jenny maintained. “Think of her situation as her staying with us on a more permanent basis and you give her an allowance to spend.” 

His eyes instantly went wide. He was shocked to hear his sister use almost the exact same words he'd used to persuade Donna to take the position of companion in the first place. 

“Very well,” he conceded, “but we must keep to the correct protocol in front of other people. If we must continual the informality, I would rather keep the intimate association to ourselves.”

Jenny sat down on her bed, feeling triumphant. Next, she had to get Donna to do exactly the same.

-pp-

Jenny was already at the breakfast table when Donna entered the room the following morning; and she was eager to play hostess. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning, Miss Smith. Yes, I did, thank you.” Seeing the heavy frown that had suddenly appeared on Jenny’s face, she amended it to, “I did sleep well. Was I not supposed to?”

“I hope you slept very soundly,” Jenny confirmed. “No, my objection to my title.”

Had she missed something vital, Donna wondered. “Oh, I do apologise. I did not know you are Lady Jennifer.”

Jenny laughed delicately. “I am not Lady Jennifer or anything so grand. When we are alone together, Donna, I would prefer to be called ‘Jenny’.”

Donna gasped in surprise. “But that is what Dr Smith calls you. It is not my place to do so.”

“As my newly acquired family, I expect you to,” Jenny asserted.

“But…”

“I insist.” Jenny continued. “You are the nearest thing I have to a sister, and as you grew up with my brother, I think I am entitled to treat you as such.” 

She wanted to argue that she hadn’t had the chance to completely grow up with John, but Donna knew it was not wise to do so in the face of such determination. Even if it had come with a childish pout. “Then it would be both an honour and a pleasure to see you as my little sister, Jenny,” she stated, trying out this new gift, “for I always craved to have a sister of my own too.”

“Then we are well matched,” Jenny gleefully declared, smiling brightly at this new accomplishment.

-pp-

A couple of days later, a fancy envelope containing a card arrived on the doormat of the Smith household whilst they ate breakfast.

“May I open it, please John?” Jenny gushed, keen to satisfy her curiosity.

“Very well,” he easily allowed, and smiled at her excitement as she ripped off the seal. 

“A ball! We have been invited to a ball,” Jenny enthused on reading through the card.

“Let me see,” John requested, holding out a hand towards the card. He read it carefully. 

“Who has invited you, and why?” Donna asked Jenny. 

Her eyes shone with excitement. “It is from Lady Francine Jones.”

“It is in order to celebrate her son Leo’s graduation at the university,” John read out. 

“You certainly made a good impression upon him. What with the weekend stay and now this,” Donna cheekily commented, “you will be his best man next.”

He shot her a suitably withering look. “If he marries you and takes you off my hands, I’ll not only be his best man, I’d gladly dance too.”

Needless to say, she acted maturely enough to poke her tongue out at him, just as he had expected, causing him to laugh.

“You will still get to dance, when you go to his graduation ball,” she pointed out. 

“ _If_ I go,” he corrected. “As it is, I don't think we should go to it considering he is a student.”

“Why not?” Jenny cried out in despair. “Please, John.”

“It might clash with an academic function, and my duty is to the university, first and foremost.” 

“But you rarely, if ever, go to those things if you can avoid it,” Jenny protested. 

He was startled by Donna gently asking, “Why don’t you go to the university dances?”

“Because he’s a grump, that’s why,” Jenny petulantly replied.

Placing the invitation card slowly down on to the table in front of them, John carefully replied, “It isn’t due to my having a bad temperament. It’s just that…”

“What is the problem?” Donna pondered, imaging all sort of scenarios. “If they bully you, I shall go and have words with one or two of them, using the back of my hand.”

Hearing such defensive words used on his behalf made him proudly smile, and he gratefully took her hand within his. “Thank you, but there should be no need for that. The truth is, I have never had anyone to go with me.”

“Good job Jenny is old enough now for you to escort her,” she responded. 

Patting her hand, he let go and forced himself to agree. “Indeed, it is.” 

“Would Donna be allowed to go with you?” Jenny wondered, asking the unspoken question. 

“I’m not sure,” he began to reply, liking the idea but unsure about the practicalities. 

But Donna quickly interrupted him, saying, “I doubt it would be appropriate for any employee to accompany him to such an event. There are probably laws against it.”

“Well, not laws. Social conventions, maybe,” he supposed.

“I do not understand,” Jenny admitted. “If I as your sister am allowed to attend such a function, why isn’t Donna, who I regard as my adopted sister, also welcome?”

“Because…” ‘that would imply she is my wife or fiancée’, he wanted to say. “There is a difference between regarding and actually being,” he heard himself state, and hated that he had to do so. 

“See. Perfectly simple,” Donna said, fighting back the angry tears that threatened to overwhelm her. “If you would both excuse me.”

She then fled from the table, leaving Jenny to openly glare at her brother. 

“Sometimes you just…. Oooh!” she hissed, balling up her fists. “I am going to find Donna and don’t even think of speaking to me for at least five hours!”

Watching her flounce off, he had to agree that he deserved her silent treatment. It would also give him time to devise a way to include Donna in all their invitations.

-pp-


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** with an added bit written for [mirthfulwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirthfulwoman/pseuds/mirthfulwoman).

“Huh!” Lady Francine near shrieked when she read the letter received that morning. 

“What is it, Mama?” Martha kindly asked.

“The cheek of the man,” Lady Francine answered. “Dr Smith has written to ask if his invitation extends to his sister, Miss Jennifer Smith and her companion.”

Patricia felt none the wiser. “Would it be terrible to include the companion?”

“It would be since the companion is none other than Miss Donna Noble,” Lady Francine haughtily informed her children. 

“That would be nice,” Martha commented. 

“How horrible,” Patricia exclaimed at the same time. “You cannot allow it.”

“Why not?” Martha demanded of both women.

“It was bad enough having the Nobles here for afternoon tea, let alone invite one as a guest to a celebration ball now that she is a lowly servant. What was the man thinking when he made the request?”

“He was nice enough to provide a placement for his old friend,” Martha defended her potential beau. “I think it makes him a very pleasant fellow and a fine Christian.” 

Patricia snorted her scorn. “You would think anything he did was worthy of your affections.”

“Tish,” their mother chided. “Do not tease your sister so. She has set her eye on Dr Smith.” 

“Maybe, but is he willing to comply?” Patricia wondered. “If he is seeking to bring Miss Noble with him, then perhaps his intentions lie in her direction after all.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Martha complained. “Mama, tell her she is wrong.”

But Lady Francine had her own suspicions. “Hopefully, she is very wrong. We shall let Dr Smith prove his connection to you or he will not be welcome here at all, no matter how much your brother Leo will plead his case.”

-pp-

John scowled at the reply he had received and promptly threw it in the bin. Selfish, stuck up snobs! It would serve them right if he refused to go. Anyone would think they had never socialised with Donna, judging by their actions. If she wasn’t welcome, then he had no interest in attending Leo Jones’s graduation ball.

As he sat contemplating the screwed-up piece of paper, he wondered which was worse for Donna, possibly being lied to about the ball, or finding out she wasn’t welcome? It certainly vexed him and made him feel guilty again for having caused her similar grief. 

Did she deserve to be rejected by people she had once thought of as friends? No. She did not. Perhaps he could take her with him anyway, just to annoy them. 

In the meantime, there was an academic function they could all attend that was less formal, to see if it was a good idea. And this time he would make sure Donna was introduced as Jenny’s close friend instead of companion, to make things less complicated. 

With the decision made, he left his study to inform Jenny about the approaching social event.

-pp-

Having received the news from her brother, Jenny hurried to impart it. “Donna, John has accepted an invitation to the college end of year ball!” she near squealed. “I can hardly wait. This must be your influence because he has never offered to do so before.”

“Or,” Donna considered as she handed Jenny a cup of tea, “perhaps he thinks you are of an age where you would both appreciate and benefit from such an event.”

“No, this is all your doing. He is finally facing life again,” Jenny maintained. 

Donna merely shrugged modestly. “Very well if you insist. The more important question is what are you going to wear?”

There was much conversation about it. The next week was a flurry of activity as dresses were tried on, approved of or dismissed, and then alterations to be made. 

Come the final day, Donna stepped back to eye their creation with some satisfaction, for Jenny looked beautiful in her blue silk dress. Tiny shimmering beads gleamed from the bodice, and the accompanying clips in her hair added to the effect of making her appear like a princess. 

Turning this way and that in front of a long mirror, Jenny nervously asked, “How do I look?”

“Oh Jenny. It’s beautiful. Just stunning,” Donna stated in awe. “John will be delighted.”

“You will be there too,” Jenny pointed out, “to impress.” 

It caused Donna to gaze down at herself. In comparison, she was extremely drab, despite wearing her best dress. But that was supposed to be the case, she reminded herself, since this was Jenny’s special day. For Donna, such days were long behind her. She was there as moral support and nothing else. 

“It’s best we don’t worry about me,” she advised. “Just make sure you enjoy yourself, for both our sakes.”

“How are we getting on?” John wondered from the doorway. “Oh Jenny! You look divine,” he gasped on seeing her.

“Thank you,” she modestly answered. “You look very good too.”

I’d have said ‘gorgeous’, Donna instantly thought and then blushed. She wasn’t supposed to think such things about her friend. It was most inappropriate. “You will look wonderful dancing together,” she commented instead.

Her words drew his attention to her, and he quickly gave her a compliment too. “You also look lovely tonight, Donna.”

“Pft!” As if she believed him for one second. “Jenny was worrying about her dancing skills.”

“Why is that?” he asked his sister.

“I hear the waltz might be danced tonight and I have rarely tried it,” Jenny confessed

Surely she knew how to dance it, Donna thought; but kept wisely quiet about it. Perhaps the girl had led a very sheltered life? John didn’t seem worried about it. 

“Then we shall practice, right here, right now,” he declared.

Jenny pondered, “Are you familiar with it, John?” 

“I have seen it executed by other people,” he admitted. “I’m sure we can cope. Do you know the tune, Donna?”

“If you are asking me to play the piano then I am afraid my talent is extremely limited,” she warned, “but I will try.” 

Minutes later, her inexpert playing resounded around the parlour and John cautiously led Jenny through the steps. 

“Oh my, this is tricky,” Jenny huffed. 

“You are doing very well, isn’t she, Donna?”

“Definitely,” Donna readily agreed.

But Jenny was in a teasing mood. “Perhaps if I saw you two dance the waltz together, I would get to know the steps properly.”

Donna immediately stopped playing; the notes dying slowly away. Could she cope with being held by John? “I...” 

“If you can play at the same time as you observe us, I don’t see why not,” John told his sister. “Are you willing to try, Donna?”

It took little effort for her to pose herself ready to dance with him. And he seemed quite keen to practise with her, so she relaxed into his loose embrace by the time a few bars had been played. 

Was it the sweeping dance steps or her soaring feelings that caused her to feel dizzy? It was hard to decide as she gazed into his eyes. All she was aware of was his tender touch upon her body and the ease of letting him guide them.

She wondered what thoughts had crossed his mind because he suddenly blushed and paused as he asked, “Does this help, Jenny? Or should we continue?”

Jenny jerked up from the piano keyboard, having paid more attention to her fingering than the dance steps carried out before her. “Erm. just a little bit more,” she requested, and smiled at the dancing couple. 

They moved fluidly together. Why couldn’t her brother see how well Donna would fit as a potential wife? She then vowed to get them to dance again, very soon. 

Jenny knew it would be quite a task to get John to see. Especially when he halted their progress around the parlour and declared, “I think it is time we left.”

-pp-

Stepping out of the carriage, Donna was inexplicably surprised to see John in front of her, escorting Jenny. Normally, he walked by her side instead, and it felt decidedly odd not to have him do so. Cold, even.

“Get used to it,” she muttered to herself in chastisement for it would not benefit her to expect such grand treatment. She would have to bear the loss with dignity.

“Welcome to the St George College summer ball,” they were greeted with at the grand doors to a huge ballroom before being formally introduced to the room by a toastmaster. 

Donna’s eyes were everywhere, keen to take the spectacle all in in case Jenny missed any of it. Then her gaze alighted on one person, and she involuntary huffed out an, “Oh!”

Immediately, John turned round to enquire, “Are you alright, Miss Noble?” He was even more worried when he saw her pinched face. 

“I am fine,” she feebly insisted.

Not believing her for a second, he edged nearer. “Tell me what ails you, and do not pretend there is nothing,” he whispered. 

Still trying not to look directly away from him, she hoarsely replied, “You did not tell me Lady Francine would be here.”

With a mere flick of his gaze, he was able to confirm the sighting. “That would be because I did not know she’d be attending. Let me know if she is likely to cause you major problems.”

Glancing towards Leo’s party, Donna spied his two sisters as well. Bang went any pretence she could have had of actually being part of all this. She would have to return to her familiar role of chaperone. “No, there should not be any complications,” she resigned herself to say.

“Then let me get you both seated,” John declared, “and I shall fetch you a glass of punch.”

She could only smile her thanks as he jovially made his way through the crowd. Beside her, Jenny excitedly pointed out people she knew and commented on how glamorous they looked. For her part, Donna wanted to note how handsome John was in his fine clothes, but felt it was best that she didn’t, in the circumstances. It no longer felt appropriate.

-pp-

It hadn’t taken long before Jenny was invited to dance by some young undergraduate, and soon her dance card was full. From her seat, Donna could easily see her flushed, happy face as the girl danced by. But as for Donna herself, once she had drunk yet another cup of punch, she was bored to tears not having much to do.

For a while, she had watched John’s progress in the room as he chatted with various members of the faculty. At one point he had been cornered by Leo Jones, and the inevitable followed. From then on, her only amusement was watching Martha dancing with John, trying her wiles out on him. Except it wasn’t very amusing. Far from it. 

Seeing him trying desperately to make eye contact with her across the room and failing near broke her heart. She had done her best to send him a consoling smile from her position at the back of the room, but she had no idea if he had actually seen her gesture. 

Instead, her only consolation was that Jenny obviously had an admirer and would no doubt be full of news to tell her later on.

-pp-

It was with a great deal of relief that the evening finally ended for John. He was tired and couldn’t wait to be home in his bed. Jenny had been practically buzzing as they travelled home in the carriage, but Donna worried him. She was far too quiet, for a start; but he knew she would not tell him anything personal until they were alone together. She had always been like that, covering up her feelings with a brash exterior, but he was glad to realise that he still knew the real person beneath.

Not that he was insulting her exterior, because he happened to find her very attractive as a grown woman. Stunning even. Other people may not be keen on her ginger hair or freckles, as Mrs Bennett had cruelly commented, but he rather loved them. They were part of her, so he could never find fault with that. 

Having made the decision to seek her out, John returned to the parlour and found Donna still sitting in there, with a glass of sherry by her side. He smiled with delight when she waved him nearer. 

“You seem to have enjoyed yourself,” he noted, sitting beside her, taking in her alcohol-flushed cheeks.

“You may not know this, but you have a fine match. Martha will be the perfect wife for you,” she declared.

Her tone amused him for some reason. “What makes you say that?” 

“Do you not know?” she scoffed. “Miss Martha Jones is the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, and intelligent woman you could ever wish to meet. A lady any man would be privileged to have as his wife.”

“What about you Donna?” he cheekily pondered. 

She tried to wave off the question. “I’m not destined to be a wife. That ship has long sailed away. Nobody wants me. Unlike the suitors who will be after Jenny.” She then turned her watery gaze onto him. “But at least you’ll let me be your friend for a while. Can I hug you?”

“Of course,” he agreed to allow the action, and laughed when she wrapped her arms around his waist and lovingly gazed up at him. Mesmerised by her eyes, he distractedly asked, “Why can’t we always be friends?”

“Married men cannot have women as friends,” she stated, letting go of him to perch herself on the edge of the seat. “You know that. Your new wife would not approve. And anyway,” she continued, “once men marry, they are only friends with women if they are their mistresses. Everybody knows that. Since I am not a mistress, and never will be, our friendship will end once you say: ‘I do’.”

“What if I can think of a way to remain friends?” he considered. “You and I, friends forever. We could hug one another whenever we like.”

She snorted a laugh and took another sip of her drink. “I’ll drink to that!” 

“I like this version of you,” he announced. “There’s none of the awkward social graces to hinder your behaviour.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a man,” she countered. “Women are ruled and controlled from all quarters. Men are the puppeteers.” 

The thought horrified him. “Do you think I manipulate you?”

“Pft! No. You’re my friend,” she declared, hugging his arm. “What I love about you is that you are kind, handsome, really clever, and a good friend to me. We are the bestest friends I’ve ever seen.” 

“Then should the need arise when Jenny eventually marries, I shall ask among my colleagues whether they have employment for an intelligent gentlewoman,” he vowed. “We will find a way to keep you near.”

“I don’t have to return to my mother?” she queried in awe. “Oh John! I cannot thank you enough.”

“Thank me when we have found you a position,” he strained out as she threw her arms around him in gratitude, laughing as she did so. 

His smile slipped when she then promised, “And I shall help you capture the attention of Miss Martha Jones. Or her sister, Miss Patricia, should she choose otherwise.”

“Yes… well… er… Let’s get you safely to bed,” he whispered. “We have much to arrange tomorrow.”

-pp-


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I forgot to say: a point for every Austen reference you find. :)

Next morning, Jenny fidgeted in her seat. The maid servant just wouldn’t go away, but her news needed to be said, despite Donna looking a little worse for wear. A headache, apparently. 

After waiting a few minutes, she could not keep quiet any longer. “I have a secret, Donna,” Jenny confessed. “One I am bursting to tell someone.”

Fighting off the urge to tell Jenny to leave it until later when her brain returned, Donna put on a brave face and said, “Then I am all ears.”

It was all the permission she needed. Jenny leaned closer to reveal, “I have an admirer.”

“Quite right too,” Donna said, having already guessed this was the case. “Anyone I might know?”

“Not yet,” Jenny trilled, “although you might have seen me dancing with him last night.” 

“I did notice someone,” Donna teased. 

“He is such a fine gentleman,” Jenny gushed. “who has been offered a place in the City, with a bank, and will soon have his time taken up by his new position. But the biggest secret is that Mr Wentworth is going to ask John’s permission to court me.”

“When?” Donna gulped out the question, suddenly feeling a bit sick.

“He has promised to approach John by the end of this week,” Jenny answered, trying to suppress her delight. “Just think, Donna, I might be married by Christmas!” 

The word ‘married’ woke her brain up. Immediately, Donna grasped Jenny’s hands in supportive excitement. “I wish you every happiness. You deserve it,” she enthused. 

But the inner part of her was slowly dying. Married? Jenny couldn’t be thinking of getting married yet. Not for at least a couple of years. Or at least, not until she had a decent plan in place.

What was she supposed to do with herself without Jenny’s sunny presence in her life? She would have no meaning again. Since she could not insist John keep his promise made the night before, it would be back to Ivy Cottage, caring for her mother and avoiding her shrill tongue. 

“Are you not well, Donna?” Jenny asked with concern. “Does my news disappoint you?”

Donna tried to wave a negative answer away. “Far from it. I merely did not sleep very well last night. There’s no need to worry.”

“Perhaps you ought to go back to your bedroom and lie down for a while,” Jenny suggested.

“That is an excellent idea,” Donna agreed, hauling herself up from her seat. “Give me an hour or two and I should be right as rain.”

But as she laid down on her pillow, her thoughts would not let her sleep off the remainder of a hangover. 

Perhaps she could appeal to her grandfather one more time? If she could find an appropriate connection to help with his business, he might reconsider his previous decision. 

That meant somebody like Charles Fitzwilliam would be the answer to her prayers. They had briefly met at one of Dr Smith’s previous college evenings and had seemed pleasant enough. A quiet, educated man who did not press his opinions upon others. He was considerate and intelligent without being arrogant or overly handsome. Yes, he had made a good impression on her. 

In light of that, she made a mental note to check who would be in attendance the next time Dr Smith had guests invited to dine.

-pp-

“Thank goodness you are up. Donna, what do you think of this?” Jenny whirled into the room to ask, holding up a piece of lacy fabric.

From her dressing table seat, Donna answered, “It is very pretty. What were you thinking of using it for?”

“My trousseau,” Jenny gushed. “Do you think Mr Wentworth will like it?”

“I think Mr Wentworth would be daft to even notice anything else while you are present but yes, it should please him.” Donna then frowned. “Aren’t we jumping the gun a bit, concerning Mr Wentworth?”

It was a confident smile Jenny beamed at her. “Possibly no. He is with John at this very moment, asking permission to court me.”

“Well then, we’d better go down and you can introduce me to him,” Donna decided, much to Jenny’s amusement. “Once you’ve done that, you can find me a beau too.”

“Oh, I’ve already got someone picked out for you.”

“Really?” Donna was stunned. “What is this gentleman’s name? And do I need to arrange a change to thicker spectacles for him?” 

“Donna,” Jenny giggled. “He is not old, ugly or unworthy of you. In fact, I think you would adore him.”

“You’ve bought me a dog,” Donna remarked, and Jenny was instantly helpless with laughter.

-pp-

Their evening meal didn’t go too badly, in that Mr Frederick Wentworth remained after his afternoon walk with Jenny, to eat with them. Quite frankly, Donna was feeling tired after being dragged round with them at a respectable distance.

When she had agreed to be a companion, she had imagined being taken to far flung places, like Italy; not to be skulking about in the bushes in Green Park but that’s what had happened in her new role of chaperone. 

This could go on for months, she realised, and decided that she would have to invest in a warmer shawl and some decent boots in time for winter. Never mind, she told herself; Jenny was worth it. Looking across at Mr Wentworth, the new scenery wasn’t too bad either.

“Have you enjoyed your day, Miss Noble?” John suddenly asked her.

Forcing herself out of her wayward thoughts, she answered honestly, “I did, thank you. It started off badly, but the afternoon air revived my spirits. Did you miss us?” 

Frederick was shocked to hear the question, but Jenny waited for the answer with interest. 

“Of course,” John smirked. “I had no one to practise my puppetry on.”

As Donna snorted into her meal, almost choking, Jenny looked puzzled. “You have puppets? I did not know.”

Passing a napkin to Donna to wipe her mouth with, he airily replied, “I don’t, but it is a skill worth considering.” 

“Or killing Donna for,” she noted. 

“I’m fine,” Donna croaked. 

“No doubt this is a joke between you that cannot be explained beyond the usual ‘it happened a long time ago’,” Jenny griped. 

“Miss Noble and I were great childhood friends,” John clarified for Frederick’s benefit, “and Jenny feels a little left out.”

“I wonder why that is,” she grumbled. “Honestly, Mr Wentworth, they are infuriating at times with their little secrets. Who cares whether you added salt to the fishpond? Nobody will come and arrest you now.”

“We’ve got to stop doing this to her,” John joked to Donna, placing a hand over hers where it lay on the tablecloth.

“I will if you will,” she consented. “No more talking about the thing that did the you know what.”

“Stop it,” Jenny begged as they laughed together; but there was no malice in her words, for she loved to tease them in return.

As far as she was concerned, it also meant that Mr Wentworth had been accepted.

-pp-

As he walked along the hallway upstairs, on his way to bed, John spotted Donna returning to her bedroom. No doubt she had fetched a glass of water or something. “Couldn’t you sleep either?” he quietly asked.

She was surprised to see him gadding about in his dressing gown, and self-consciously drew her own robe tighter around her body. “No, I thought a glass of milk might help. What about you?”

He sheepishly admitted, “I had a whisky. Should help me sleep now though.”

“Feels naughty being up passed the witching hour,” she commented. 

“Especially with such a beautiful moon-lit night,” he replied. Having obviously thought of something to share, he stepped nearer to speak. “How about we do some stargazing, like we did as children, but with actual stars instead of clouds this time? It might be our last chance,” he proposed directly into her ear. 

She studied his face, keen to see if he was joking or not, but his eyes in the soft candlelight seemed sincere. “Yes. Why not? For old times’ sake.”

He immediately grasped her hand and raced them up towards the attic rooms, running at a brisk pace. “Come. We should get the best views from up here,” he declared, “and luckily the moon is bright enough to guide our way down later.”

Once he had them positioned in front of a high dormer window, he blew out the candle and revelled in her gasp of awe.

“Not as good a sight as when we were in the countryside, but I am sure we can make the most of it,” he nervously apologised. “Pity we cannot lay down together to get the best experience,” he continued, and then gulped, noticing the tight hold he still had of her hand. Loosening his grip, he gently asked, “Is this to your liking?”

Her attention had been on the stars, but his question drew her to note his tender hold and the expression on his face. “I love it,” she whispered, not wanting to break the moment. “To share it here with you will become a treasured memory.”

That made him smile with satisfaction. “To think, this moment will be as beloved as something important, like your first kiss.” Her sudden grimace made him ask, “Have I offended you by making such an inappropriate comparison? I do apologise.”

“No, John. I am not offended,” she assured him. “It…” She huffed in exasperation and then ducked her head away. “I have never been kissed.”

“Never?” he was shocked to hear himself blurt out. “Surely Mr Bennett did when you became engaged.” When she merely shook her head, he continued, “No quick peck from an admiring stable lad? I thought William Collins courted you.”

“If he did, nobody ever told me,” she disparaged. “Lance never showed affection beyond kissing my forehead.”

“Not even your cheek?”

“In that respect you have proceeded a great deal further than him,” she commented. “Which just goes to show how little regard he really had for me.”

Wanting to show support and solidarity, he revealed, “Or perhaps it is the case that I regard you a great deal more than any other.”

Her sad smile pushed him into raising her hand to his lips. Then he placed a tender kiss on her fingertips. 

“Why are you doing this?” she pondered. 

The disbelief in her tone caused him to confess, “Donna, it is because I believe you deserve to be kissed in any way possible.”

“Any way at all?” she challenged and arched an eyebrow.

“Well…,” he stammered when she edged closer. “When I say that, it would be an honour for any gentleman to get the chance to kiss you.”

To aid his quest he had leaned nearer too. Far too close to excuse, should she decline the action. But instead she had gazed up at him with trusting eyes. Love was his for the taking, if he would chance this encounter, so he used his loose grip on her fingers to draw her to him and brought his other hand up to caress her cheek. His thumb gently tantalised her bottom lip. 

It was barely a question she murmured, “You want to kiss me?”

“If I may,” he whispered as he crossed the last few millimetres between them and touched his lips to her mouth. 

It was such a sweet brief kiss, but he wanted more; and evidently so did she. Releasing her hand from his, she raised her arms to embrace his shoulders, caressing his neck and adding loving touches to his jawline. One more ardent look was shared between them before they renewed their embrace, with deep kisses that drew sighs of contentment. 

This was Heaven. It would also lead to desirable behaviour that was not allowed. It had to end; Dr Smith sternly told himself. The reputation of the woman in his arms was at stake. 

With a wet pop, he released his hold on a stunned Donna and stepped back. “We must stop. Immediately. We need to leave this room and retire for the night,” he hoarsely announced, “for I am in danger of ravishing you if we continue.”

Not that she knew what ravishing exactly entailed, Donna acquiesced because she had no intention of becoming a fallen woman. They had been skating on thin ice as it was by having her live in his house as it was, let alone hint at any form of affair between them. "We have to go to bed.” 

“Yes, our own bedrooms, this instant,” he needlessly stated, and gained a glare of confusion. It was best that she remained ignorant of the effect their kiss had on his body and libido. “Shall we?”

He held out a hand to guide her back downstairs and was relieved when she readily took it. Her trust in him remained intact, but for how much longer? Surely she would be repulsed by this yearning within his heart, and other parts of his anatomy. His weakness in the moment could destroy their precious friendship if he wasn’t careful. 

But he left her with a kiss on the cheek when they reached her bedroom door. “Good night, Donna,” he whispered.

That sad smile was back. “Good night, John,” she whispered in return, feeling that this might be the last time she would be allowed the intimacy. 

His demeanour suggested he had regretted the kiss in the attic. Or he was embarrassed to be seen with her in the dead of night, she reasoned. It wasn’t exactly impossible to consider that was the case. 

Okay, he had kissed her. A lovely, melt your heart sort of kiss, one he’d been kind enough to bestow, but that didn’t mean he would want to repeat the action. After all, he was a learned gentleman and she was an impoverished woman. A temptation, and nothing more. There was only one way such an intimate relationship could continue and that would involve becoming his mistress. Her mother would die from the shame. 

As it was, her mother had already accused them of elopement, and John had laughed that situation off. No, he was destined to marry a fine lady, and she had an uncertain future. 

A future that would not be in the gutter. Not if she had anything to do with it. Of that she was determined.

-pp-

The next morning was how she had expected it to be, but John avoiding her gaze was much more hurtful than she’d anticipated.

“Have you two argued again, John?” Jenny accused him at breakfast. She defiantly spread butter on her toast. “You say I remain childish at times and yet here you are, deliberately ignoring Donna.”

“I am not...,” he began to hotly deny, his face blushed to the tips of his ears. “We… I merely… Sorry, Donna,” he murmured as his anger completely disappeared. How stupid could he be to put her in this situation? She did not deserve to be treated in this way. He coughed to change the subject. “We ought to invite some friends to dine. Yes,” he agreed with himself, nodding, “I shall arrange that. Must get on with my paperwork. I shall probably see you both at supper.”

With that, he said his farewells and raced off.

A perplexed Jenny turned to regard a stunned Donna. “What was the argument about?” she sweetly enquired. 

“There was no argument between us,” Donna responded tightly. “We came to an unspoken mutual agreement instead.” 

“Oh.”

“Do not worry so,” she cooed when Jenny looked sullen, placing a hand on top of hers in comfort. “We discussed my future plans once you are wed. That is all. Your brother thinks someone will marry me whilst I am keen to seek employment.”

“You do not seek marriage?”

Donna fondly tucked away a stray wisp of Jenny’s hair. “As long as I get to see you happy, I will be quite content with my life.”

The smile Jenny beamed at her could have lit up a room with its brightness. Alas, it did not quite reach Donna’s heart.

-pp-


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** the art work at the end is totally the wrong time period (sorry, the website didn't do Georgian), but at least it's mine.

Members of various faculties from the university were meeting up to discuss the coming academic year and celebrate the achievements of the current one. Donna devised two plans to use them to help her situation. 

Plan A was to find a new position as a companion; probably with somebody’s maiden aunt, or lonely mother. Her opportunity to create a plan B presented itself some two weeks later. John had carried out his ‘threat’ to invite some faculty members to the house to dine, and if Jenny were included that probably meant Donna herself could happily tag along too. 

Not only that but one of the guests was Mr Charles Fitzwilliam himself. During a previous dinner, she had heard that he worked in the university library, when eavesdropping a conversation between him and Dr Fairfax, John’s faculty colleague, so she endeavoured to find out more. If she could secure some sort of link to the bookshop via him, her grandfather would be ecstatic. 

Her plan was further aided when she was placed opposite him at the dining table, quite by chance. Further down the table, Jenny was engrossed in some conversation with John and the grand-looking man on the other side of him, so Donna was left to her own devices to amuse herself; and blow being quiet and demure for once!

“Mr Fitzwilliam,” she pleasantly began, “am I right to assume you run the library?”

He spluttered modestly. “Well, Miss Noble, isn’t it? Whilst I work as part of the library, I do not in fact run it.”

Ah, her charms might work on him, she thought. Forging on, she encouraged him with, “But you are well versed in its dealings, are you not? That is practically running it, as far as I can tell.”

To her delight, he blushed. “Modesty forbids me from making such a claim.”

“Then I shall silently label you as such,” she declared. “For I have met no other who could remotely assume such a title.”

“You are too kind,” he gushed and bashfully averted his gaze. 

Obviously not used to talking to women, Donna mentally noted. This might work in her favour. “Not at all,” she insisted, adding in a giggle.

The giggle drew John’s attention, and he looked in her direction to see what had amused her, but Donna was on a mission now, and even he managed to elude her interest; so intent was she.

“No man shall ever represent the library as well as you,” she enthused. “Tell me, what section of the library is your favourite?” 

“An usual question,” he noted with a pleased smirk.

“I have unusual interests,” she commented.

“May I ask what your interests are?” he wondered.

“Cataloguing,” she answered sweetly. 

He quirked an eyebrow. “Even more unusual. Have you been acquainted with our library in some way?”

“Not as such. I would love to see it properly,” she replied. “My experience lies with the selling of books.” 

“Ah, a book shop,” he happily sighed. 

“Charles, are you in need of any more wine?” John suddenly asked him quite loudly.

The man in question was startled. “I have plenty still, thank you,” Charles supplied. “Are you ready for some more, Miss Noble?” he wondered, having turned the request on her.

“No, thank you,” she responded, blushing prettily. What was John doing? He would ruin her plan at this rate. “It is delicious though,” she tacked on when he frowned. 

Why was he annoyed with her, she wondered. Had she overstepped the line between servant and friend again? It was far too easy to make such a mistake when dealing with him. He was technically her master, since he paid her a wage, but he had insisted that she not regard him as such, saying she was doing him an enormous favour. Well, friends don’t tend to pay each to sit with them. Perhaps she had been too hasty to take this position? Jenny was lovely, but it often left her friendship with John in a questionable position. 

“Sorry,” she murmured towards Charles. “My actions are unforgivable.”

He smiled back with a friendly grin. “There is nothing to apologise for. Nothing at all. You have merely provided me with some entertainment as we enjoy a pleasant meal.” 

John nudged Jenny quite sharply, so she grabbed hold of Donna’s arm. “Miss Noble keeps me amused a great deal of the day.” 

The conversation continued with a long discussion about Jenny’s education, but Donna knew her moment in the sun had gone. She was back in the silent majority. 

But the evening ended on a surprising note.

Charles had sidled up to Donna and hastily whispered, “If I may be so bold, Miss Noble, may I call upon you?”

Flustered, she had answered, “Of course you may.”

His face had lit up in delight. “Then I shall take my leave of you. I hope to call upon you very soon. Until we meet again, good night.” 

“Good night,” she had responded, and stood gawping at his retreating back.

It had worked! Mr Charles Fitzwilliam was interested enough to call upon her. Well, well, well. Wonders would never cease. Wait until she told Jenny later. She could hardly wait to share her news.

-pp-

“Mr Fitzwilliam wants to court you,” Jenny repeated in awe later; after they had finished eating the following morning. “Are you sure you want to encourage him?”

“He seems nice enough,” Donna defended herself with a shrug. “And you shall be leaving soon, once your plans are fixed.” 

“Yes but, old Mr Fitzwilliam, Donna,” Jenny stressed in mild horror. “He’s a humble librarian.”

“A humble, educated and highly revered librarian, and I am only a companion,” Donna argued. “It is not as though he is below me.”

Jenny nodded at the truth of this fact. “But nevertheless, you could attract a gentleman, if you tried.”

That innocent comment stung more than it should have done. “I have already tried to find such a man but alas, I am without sufficient dowry or inheritance to attract one. My failed engagement to Mr Bennett proved that.”

“Oh Donna, I am so sorry for reminding you of your erm…”

“I was jilted at the altar, Miss Smith. You can say the words,” she bitterly offered.

Jenny rushed over to hug Donna with passion. “Now, now, we agreed that between us it is allowed to call me ‘Jenny’. You know that, so no going back; even when you are angry with me.” 

How could anyone not hug her back with equal regard? “I am sorry. The topic of possible suitors always makes me tetchy. It is one of my mother’s favourite things to complain about. She loves to point out that I will not survive without acquiring a husband.” 

“But your grandfather’s shop,” Jenny tried to argue.

“Not mine, I’m afraid,” Donna admitted, “and never will be. My grandfather is determined to pass it on to my cousin Edward.”

“Is he married?”

“Yes,” she answered, scuppering that fledgling plan. 

“Then I shall ask John to find you a suitable husband,” Jenny proclaimed, having obviously thought through several ideas. “He must know somebody.”

How could Donna complain? It was close to her own plan, after all. Almost identical. Giving Jenny another hug, she thanked her for her thoughtfulness. “After your engagement is settled, and he has pursued Miss Martha Jones, perhaps he will have some time to consider my plight.”

Jenny frowned as she asked, “You’ve seen him with her. Do you think he will choose her?”

“He’d be a fool to let such an accomplished woman go,” Donna declared, whilst her own heart broke at the thought.

-pp-

Donna was quietly sitting in the front parlour, reading a book, when John came storming in, causing her to jump out of her seat.

“Is this true?” he demanded to know.

“Is what true?” she countered.

“This information I have learned from Jenny. That you have a suitor. That he intends to call upon you here, in this house,” he blazed.

“Yes, that is true,” she supplied. “Mr Fitzwilliam has been most attentive.”

“Mr Fitzwilliam!” He stepped up close to practically snarl in her face, “Charles Fitzwilliam is a librarian.”

“And?” she challenged him. “Being a librarian does not make you a mass murderer.”

His nostrils flared. “But it does make you an arrogant, conceited, conniving fiend!”

“I thought you liked him,” she answered. “He often comes here as your friend, to dine.”

“Yes, but that was before…”

This tone frightened her. “Before what? What ghastly crime has he committed? Are we safe? Should I remove Jenny from his company?”

The mention of Jenny both calmed and redirected him. “It is best if you do.”

Now that he was not so angry, she felt able to press her question. “I still do not understand why.”

His nervous stutter returned with a vengeance. “B.. b... because he… he…”

It was awful for her to watch him fret like that, so Donna placed a soothing hand on his chest, over his heart. “Tell me what you can,” she softly begged. “The truth. I have to think of Jenny. Is he a danger to us?”

John shook his head. “No.”

Sighing with relief, she then asked, “Has he committed a crime?”

After waving his head about indecisively, John shook his head. “Not as such.”

“But you do not like what he did?” 

With a small shrug, he admitted, “No. Not really.”

Probably a petty action was the crime, she decided. “Are you able to tell me what action offended you?”

His eyes begged her not to make him explain. “No,” he whispered. 

“Very personal, I take it,” she noted. “I would not normally do this, but if you are against him courting me, I shall refuse his advances.”

“Phew!” John let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you. I did not want to forbid it, so I am glad you offered.”

“You’re just lucky I am that good a friend,” she chuckled.

“Very lucky. Considerably so.”

“Don’t overdo it,” she mocked, and he laughed with delight. 

“One day I hope to be able to declare…” His eyes went wide as he realised what he was about to reveal. “Well. What I mean is… that we…. erm…”

Her hand patted his chest and she smirked knowingly. “I like you too, dumbo. If I am going to miss out on being escorted to the park, I think the least you can do is offer me an alternative companion.”

He readily stuck out his arm in invitation. “Your wish is my command. Would you like to accompany me to an afternoon constitutional?” 

“It would be my pleasure.”

With their truce agreed upon, they left the house.

-pp-

Their walk in the park had been extremely pleasant. The blooms were out, birds sung, and squirrels scampered about as if to amuse them. On returning home, Donna felt she could finally ask her pressing question and get a meaningful answer.

Taking off her gloves, and striding into the parlour, she began with, “Out with it. Why were you so angry with me earlier?”

“I wasn’t,” he inevitably denied, as he followed and adjusted the fall of his jacket. 

“John,” she softly chided, “I have known you a long time, and I know when you are pretending by hiding your feelings.” She then prodded him in the chest. “And you were annoyed with me.”

He placed his palm over her prodding index finger to halt any further possible injury. “How could I ever get anything passed you? Silly, I know, but I did not care for you paying Mr Fitzwilliam such attention.”

“Oh.” She considered his words, heard his honesty and rewarded him with the truth. “It was part of my plan. Plan B, to be precise.”

“Plan B?” he queried, frowning. “You planned to annoy me?”

“I may tease you, but I would never deliberately rile you, unless I was also furious.” 

Seemed true to him. “Then what was your plan?”

Feeling slightly ashamed, she admitted, “To acquire either a husband or a useful business contact for Grandfather’s shop.” 

“Hmm.” He carefully eyed her. “And which of those two things did you achieve?”

“Neither yet,” she confessed and dipped her head away. “Mr Fitzwilliam has merely requested to call upon me. There is no understanding beyond that.”

“I see.”

His stern tone made her lift her head up to regard him. “I thought you wanted to see me settled in life.”

“You also thought I wanted to court Miss Martha Jones,” he huffed, “and you were wide of the mark with that one. I will not be seeking any of the Jones family again; before you ask.” 

“I don’t understand,” she quietly confessed. “What stopped you considering her?”

“Do you really not know, Donna?” he wondered. When she didn’t answer, he quietly revealed, “It was you.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Me?! What did I do? I meant nothing wrong.” 

Reaching up, he removed her hands from her face to clasp them with his own. “Oh Donna. Why are you so blind?”

“What?” She blinked at him, unable to believe what he was hinting at. “You mean… You…. Me? No, it cannot be true.”

“Did my kiss tell you nothing of my feelings?” he asked.

Flummoxed, she babbled, “Well, I guessed something, but… You genuinely want me? Really? This is…”

“Is?” he prompted.

“Amazing,” she whispered. 

Several happy emotions burst in his soul. “Then we are settled?”

“Depends on what you want to ask me,” she typically countered. “I have to actually hear the question first.”

The big question then. He garnered his courage to ask, “Donna, will you marry me?”

Her mouth formed the letter to begin her answer, but a sudden thought struck her. “Are you always this possessive when someone makes you jealous?”

“Oh, for the love of all that is Holy! You would make a saint swear with your teasing,” he complained.

“You like it really,” she smirked.

“I love it,” he laughed. “More than anything, I love you.”

Still not convinced, she disparaged, “Silly _old_ me with my ginger hair and freckles?”

“Especially with them,” he schmoozed, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss her palm. “This equally old fool finds them rather wonderful.”

Fascinated by his actions, she commented, “You aren’t asking what I like about you, I’ve noticed.” 

“Well, you did rather list the qualities you liked the other night,” he replied. “When you were drunk.”

“Tipsy,” she corrected. “I was aware of what I said and seemed to have no problem revealing the truth.”

“Luckily for me. Or has my luck changed, and you are about to refuse me?” he fretted.

“Why ever would I do something as daft as that? I love you, John,” she assured him. “Nothing can change that. Are you worried about what fine society and gossip mongers will say about us marrying?”

He shook his head. “For those who are against us, I am making an honest woman of you. For those who support us, we are a good match.”

Now grinning, she added, “Either way, I win by having my best friend by my side.”

“Since you agree with me, we have a trip to the vicarage to undertake immediately and get our banns booked to be read.” 

Vicar? Banns? Unable to believe this last step, she queried, “For a wedding?”

“For _our_ wedding,” he confirmed. “There is no reason to wait.”

Any answer she may have teased him with was lost in the ether when he dipped forward and captured her lips. The kisses he placed there promised love and devotion until the day he died. 

“Who gets to tell Jenny of our engagement?” she cheekily wondered, feeling more than a little bit breathless now.

“That pleasure should be both of us together,” he proclaimed. “Let’s go, right away.”

-p-p-


End file.
